Kunoichi Amongst Snowdrifts
by Maiiau
Summary: Deidara chases down a canvas. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.  
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Deidara liked to watch them run, and he tilted his head in such a way that his best view of the kunoichi was through the mechanical lens, because she was a toy, a good one, and he wanted to see her up close. Deidara searched carefully for his canvases and she was a pretty one, long black hair that streamed and big brown eyes that looked too gentle and a face that was too soft for a kunoichi, and Deidara knew she would be his next piece because she was pretty and deliciously breakable. And he'd found her in a little nowhere place, a kunoichi far from home because he knew when she ran she was one of Iwa's, even though he hadn't laid eyes on her hitai-ate, because when she ran she ran for the mountains and the snow and anyone raised in Iwa knew the powdery mountains as well as a Konoha shinobi knew the forests.

The woman was gorgeous and Deidara shivered, a spring held down by thinning wire, because she melted into the mountain like she belonged there, and Deidara knew then she was a hunter and it was only one light leap before he was off of his clay bird and onto the ground, chakra spread into pads beneath his feet so his landing left no prints. Kunoichi amongst snowdrifts, was it? Deidara licked his lips and slid into the cold air, feeling out the mountain and the soft snow that blanketed it. He only stood a moment before he moved, moving quickly but not running because that would spoil the effect entirely and Deidara was all about effect, especially for something like this.

And there she was, such a pretty lamb all by herself waiting for the leopard. Deidara did not get to chase such brilliant canvases often, and he held himself in check from spoiling the tone, because mood was important in art. He watched her then, and his grin snaked wider across his face to see how she waited with only a thin layer of hardened shinobi to hide the little girl inside, the ice above the layer of snow that crackled when you stepped too hard. Deidara intended to step very hard.

He knew she would play her role because he had her already, had since she had stepped out of the little inn, so he let his chakra signature fall heavily upon her and she was running again, and Deidara felt laughter bubbling in his throat and was moving even as he swallowed it down, pouncing not to kill but to catch, because Deidara was a bird to some but he was also a cat, and he wanted to play with his find. He had her by both arms and she screamed prettily, in the stiff way kunoichi do, and even as he broke her arms in two places and her legs five times over he was all but purring, and she fell to the ground with a little strangled mousy noise that did make Deidara titter just a little, because it seemed she protested to the indignity of being let fall more than anything, and he leaned over her and held her chin up and told her she was pretty. Those lovely eyes were so big now and Deidara could have hugged her she was so gorgeous, except that would have spoiled it and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her like that.

The clay centipede moved gracefully around her, its clay body nestled into her heat, and as the creature's head ghosted over her neck the almost-horrified whine was just another piece falling into place. He soothed her with talk of art and stroked her hair until she opened her mouth to speak. But nothing came out of course because then the centipede took the opportunity to move down her throat, not halting a moment even as she gagged and choked against it, and Deidara kissed her forehead and really she was unbelievably beautiful, so Deidara whispered his thanks because he rarely had the chance to use such a canvas.

And he moved back as he breathed the word of detonation and her chest pushed outward with such wonderful snapping and sloshing before her body split like a balloon overfilled. The blood spilled onto the snow and onto her face, tilted as it was, and pinks and reds always looked best on snow, Deidara knew. He was watching only with his free eye, now, watching the blood pool around her and she hadn't made a sound as she burst, such an agreeable canvas. Deidara almost cried to see how gorgeous she was in the end.


End file.
